


Stupid Cupid

by saltwatergirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwatergirl/pseuds/saltwatergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evil babies are trying to kill me. Not literally, <i>kill me</i>, kill me, and technically they aren't actually babies...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid Cupid

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Strange Candy by Linda K. Hamilton

Stiles hated the rain. Nothing good ever happened when it rained. And today was no different. Something was up.  Unease slowly crawled up his spine. Stiles stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a Cupid across the road from him. It was a small stout creature, which resembled a human baby−if you were willing to overlook the fluffy, snow-white wings attached to its plump back, the crown of daisies on its head, and the devilish glint of mischief in its eyes.  A glowing yellow light surrounded the creature. The falling rain didn’t seem to touch the Cupid. Its golden ringlets of hair were perfectly dry and in place, almost as if an invisible umbrella was shielding it.

Cupids are pests, pure evil pests, and Stiles didn’t want to get hit by an arrow. Heaven forbid. He was scanning the streets when he spotted the second Cupid and this one already had a red arrow in its stubby fingers.

_Lust_ , Stiles thought _. If I get hit with that_ \-- He shuddered. _Seriously, I’m going to get tag teamed by a pair of Cupids?_ No way in hell, he wasn’t going to let that shit fly. Stiles whistled. “Hey, guys!”

The Cupids turned to Stiles’ direction, or at least their heads did, swivelling like an owl’s to face him.

_Now, there’s some serious, double-jointed shit_. “I’m in a relationship.” _With myself._ “I think you have the wrong person−”

Before Stiles could even finish his sentence, like a dragonfly from hell, an arrow whizzed past his face and almost grazed his cheek. Stiles fell back against the wall. The arrow that fell on to the ground was purple. Stiles frowned. He had no idea what purple arrows meant. A second arrow flew in his direction. It was red.

Stiles ducked behind a dumpster. He dug into his pockets until he found his cell phone. ThankGod he had Scott’s number on speed dial.

As he waited for Scott to pick up, the seconds crawled by. _Scott, please pick up_ , Stiles thought, gripping his phone in a clammy hand.

“Stiles?” Scott said.

“Scott, there are a bunch of Cupids after me!”

“Q whats?”

“Cupids!”

Stiles could hear Allison’s voice on the other end of the line. Then he heard Scott’s muffled laugher. This couldn’t be good. “Scott?” Cold sweat broke out all over Stiles’ back.

“Stiles, just hang tight, and let them do their thing. It will be over before you know it.”

_No. No. No._ “Oh God, Scott, you set me up?!”

“It was Lydia and Allison’s idea. I only found out this morning.” 

There was a muffled sound. Then Allison was on the line. “Cecilia likes you, and you like her. When you wake up tomorrow, trust me, you’ll thank us.”

“This is like, like… RAPE!” Stiles shouted.

“Scream all you want. No one is going to hear you.” This was Danny.

_Et tu, Danny?_ “You guys are unbelievable.” Stiles could hear more muffled laughter, and then the line went dead. He ducked his head and scanned the streets. He couldn’t see any more Cupids. He sighed in relief. Maybe they had left. _I should make a run for it. Get into my car and hightail it out of here..._ He crawled along the side of the building, as he tried his best not to touch the dumpster.  _Gross, gross, gross_.

He sneaked a peak; there were now a gang of Cupids. If there was a compound noun for them, Stiles could imagine something ridiculous like a ‘love bite of Cupids’. But the way they seem to be loitering on the street, they might as well been a gang.

Stiles leaned against the wall.  _Shit, shit, shit_.

 

 

 

***

“Pssst, over here.”

Stiles looked up.

There was a window above him and a guy was mouthing something. His face was in shadow and Stiles couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“What? I can’t hear you.” From the corner of his eye, Stiles could see the Cupids arming themselves with an array of red arrows.  They had spotted him. _Is this shit even legal?_ he thought to himself, as he scrambled to his feet.

“Give me your hand. I’ll pull you up,” the guy said.

Stiles nodded as his hand shot up.

“Put your feet against the wall. You'll have to lift up as I pull you. If you don’t I will end up yanking your arm out of its socket. Do you understand me?”

Stiles grimaced at the visual. He threw a last glance back at the Cupids. Big mistake.

The Cupids were marching towards him. They fell in line gracefully. Who knew evil babies in saggy diapers could be so nimble? The Cupid aimed their arrows−

“Hurry, hurry!” Stiles could barely keep the panic out of his voice.  The arrows flew into the air in his direction. “HURRRRRRY!”

“On three! One, two, three.” The guy lifted Stiles and dragged him through the window.

Stiles fell into a tangled heap on top of the guy, his chin bumping hard against a solid shoulder. The smell of leather, cologne, musk and something else filling his nostrils. Stiles sprawled on top of the guy and he suddenly, found himself not wanting to move− like, ever−

“You can… get off me now,” the guy said.

“Huh?” Stiles said, confused. Was that even him, why did he sound so drowsy all of a sudden? For moment, Stiles wondered if a stray arrow had hit him.  “Touch my back, tell me if you feel anything buzzing over there.”

“What?” The guy let out a throaty laugh. “Are you sure?”

 “Yes.” _Please._

The guy’s hands travelled up Stiles’ back. “I don’t feel anything.”

That meant none of the arrows had hit him. Stiles sighed in relief, but he still didn’t move. He realised he still hadn’t seen the guy's face. For a moment, he tried to imagine what his rescuer looked like. _Please don’t be hot_ , his head told him. _Please be hot_ , his cock replied.  Stiles rolled off him and pushed up on to his elbows. He turned to see the guy’s face−

_You remind of me my Jeep… I wanna ride it−_

The guy was hot _,_ smoking hot. Napalm, I’ll sell all my shit just to fuck you, hot − _Shut up, John Mayer.  Stilinski, stop staring, stop staring_ −

“Are you okay?”

_Stop staring._ “Er, um…” _Close your mouth, god damn it_. Stiles’ lips snapped shut.

“Hey, man, are you okay?”

 “Yeah, sure. Good times, rock n’ roll, God bless America.”

The guy smiled. “You’re funny.”

Stiles rubbed his jaw. “Good funny… or bad funny?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

The guy got to his feet and held out his hand to Stiles.

Stiles took his hand. _Warm_.

“What’s your name?”

 “Warm,” Stiles said. “I mean, Stiles.” _An arrow hit me, definitely_.

“Styles? How do you spell it?” he said.

“Sex.” Stiles cleared his throat. “I mean S-T-I-L-E-S.”

“My name is Derek.” Derek walked around him. “ _Stiles_ , I’m going to turn the lights on.” Has his name ever sounded so good on someone’s lips before?

The lights flickered on.

They were inside a bar. Behind the counter, the entire wall was covered with liquor bottles. All the chairs were on the tables, and a giant jukebox was the centrepiece of the room.

“So, what where you doing outside?”

“Evil babies are trying to kill me,” Stiles said as he shook his head. “Not literally, _kill_ me, kill me, and technically they are not actually babies…” He gestured around when he realised he was babbling.

“I was locking up. I heard someone scream ‘rape’ and then I saw you and the Cupids.”

“It’s not what you think. My friend Scott set me up. He sent the Cupids. He thinks if they hit me I will finally hook up with his cousin. ”

Derek held his hands up. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. My sister is always on my grille about things like that. Do you want a drink?”

"Yeah sure, if you’re offering me Southern Comfort.”

Derek smiled. “Hey, how old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty… One.” _Liar, liar, pants on fire_. He was nineteen.

Derek wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll get you a soda.”

_Pick your jaw off the floor._ Stiles found himself nodding dumbly. All he could do was watch. Stiles felt so out of place in the low lit bar. One minute, he was walking down the street, trying to remember the dodgy alley in which he'd parked his car, the next he was caught in the rain during a Cupid apocalypse- and then, of all things, he’s in a bar with Mr Man’s Health Look. Life can be so random.

Derek took his jacket off and slung it over a chair. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and went behind the bar's counter.  Derek looked up. “You can take a seat. Those things outside are eventually going to get bored and go and bother someone else. You might as well get comfortable… until that happens.”

Stiles pulled up a bar stool and sat down. “Do you work here?”

“My dad owns the bar. I’m just filling in for my sister.” Derek filled a canister with ice and shook it. He took out two glasses, placed them on the counter and poured the dark contents into them.

“What’s that?” Stiles asked, eyeing the drink.

“Cranberry soda and Red Bull. Try it. I drink it all the time, when I’m studying.”

“Where do you go to school?”

“I’m in college up north.”

_Vague much?_ Stiles took a sip and glanced out the window. It had stopped raining. 

An awkward silence filled the room. Well, awkward on Stiles’ side. Derek sipped his drink, completely oblivious to the sheer awkwardness.

Stiles glanced at the jukebox. “Does that thing work?”

 “It sure does.”

Stiles put his drink down and went to the jukebox. ‘Rock Classics’ the panel inside read. “It’s digital, but it needs a quarter?”

Derek shrugged. “I’ve never used it.”

Stiles took out a quarter and pushed it inside. He glanced at Derek just as Derek’s eyes flickered away. _Was he checking me out?_ “Anything in particular I should play?” 

When Derek didn’t reply, Stiles pushed the button and Bon Jovi’s _Bed of Roses_ started playing.

Derek wiped the counter and started aligning all the glasses in a neat line. “Sounds painful.”

“What?”

“Lying on bed of roses.”

“It’s just imagery; it’s supposed to be romantic.”

“Change it.”

Mike and the Mechanics’ ‘ _Looking back over my shoulder’_ started playing.  Stiles smiled. “My dad listens to EC Radio. All they ever play is classic hits, and I know most if these songs off by heart. ECR, ‘Home of the hits’ or something like that.”

“Leave it. It’s cool,” Derek said.

Stiles whistled along to the song. Derek smiled and reached for his drink.

Then Stiles blurted out, “Do you want to dance?”

The drink paused halfway to Derek’s lips. For a moment, it seemed as if he was trying decide whether to take his drink or bolt out of there. He carefully placed his half empty glass on the edge of the counter. Derek shrugged. “Yeah sure.” He ran a hand through his hair as he walked around the counter. His shoulders swayed as he went to Stiles, mouthing the lyrics to the song.

One foot away, Derek stopped. He cocked his head to one side and studied Stiles.

Stiles couldn’t help it, nervous laughter burst out of him. “Are you measuring me for a suit or something?”

“Or something.”  Derek said, and then he pulled Stiles towards him by the waist. 

Stiles was vaguely aware that the song was coming to an end. The jukebox shut down and went suddenly quiet and Stiles became aware of the thud of blood in his ears.

“I think my quarter has run out.”

Derek shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

Stiles took a deep breath and closed his arms around Derek’s waist.

_What if an arrow hit him?_ Stiles wondered. He had been so worried about himself, he hadn’t thought about innocent bystanders. Even though Derek hardly looked like an innocent bystander.

“Why are the Cupids after you?” Derek asked, breaking the silence.

Stiles shook his head. “My friends are playing a joke on me.”

“You do know that even if you get hit, it’s not going to stick if…” Derek made quotation marks in the air, “‘it’s not meant to be’?”

“I’m not crazy about the idea of being pushed into something,” Stiles mimicked Derek, “’I’m not ready for’.”

For some odd reason, that earned him a smile from Derek.

“The Cupids need something to work with. If you feel absolutely nothing for the person they are trying to set you up with, it’s just a wasted effort−”

“Did you hear something?” Stiles stepped back. “I thought I heard giggling.”

“Giggling?”

“Like children or…” Stiles turned around. There were two Cupids in the corner of the room. He turned to Derek. “I thought this place was locked?”

“I have no idea how they got inside.” He tugged on Stiles’ hand. “Stand behind me”.

The Cupids were grinning, showing their sharp milk teeth that had never seen sugar. Jesus, how can evil look so cute?

“If they hit you…”

“Nothing will happen.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

Stiles went behind Derek. The stupid Cupids were casually polishing their arrows.

Golden arrows.

“What? They had red arrows when I saw them on the street. These have golden arrows.”

Derek said over his shoulder, “And the relevance is…?”

“Red arrows are for lust, gold are for— they’re not here for me, they're here for you.” An arrow flew past Stiles’ head, making him duck.

“What does gold mean?” Derek swerved towards him.

A second arrow flew towards Stiles.  The next arrow that came at him, he was ready for. Stiles jerked his shoulder and the arrow missed. He laughed. The next arrow flew towards him and Stiles bent over backwards as far as his back could go without falling over. “Dud _e_ , I just Matrix-ed that mother−” Stiles turned towards Derek.

Derek was lying on the ground, groaning. A golden arrow was stuck in his head. And a red arrow had hit him in his… groin. 

_Ouch._

Stiles dropped to the ground beside him. “Hey, are you okay?”

Derek coughed. “Dammit, Laura.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw a Cupid shooting an arrow. Stiles didn’t make an attempt to duck this time. It hit him point blank in the chest. The arrow went straight for his heart.

_Screw you, Bryan Adams._

Through the haze, the last image Stiles saw was a vignette frame of Derek curled onto his side, his pale grey eyes staring blindly at the ground. Derek looked up and his gaze met Stiles’. He mouthed something Stiles couldn’t make out, and then everything faded to black.

 

 

 

***

 

Hours later, Stiles and Derek woke up, on the on the dirty floor of the bar, and the impossible happened: they fell head over heels in love with each other.

Of course, they fell in love, golden arrows being what they were…

Of course, they ended up in Derek’s loft.

Of course, they ended up, giving Derek’s bed− the only piece of furniture in his apartment− a workout for the history books.

 

 

 

***

 

Days later, Stiles called Scott. “I’m just calling you to say thank you.”

“Stiles, what are you talking about?”

“The Cupids you sent me. They did their thing. So thank you.”

“Stiles, I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“Okay, you want to play it cool, I can play it cool. Just so you know: payback is a bitch.” 

 

 

 

 The End.


End file.
